


Business Before Pleasure

by ScarletTyler



Series: What If [5]
Category: Actor RPF, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Birthday, M/M, RichLee all the way, Roleplay, not exactly a threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:25:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7728586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletTyler/pseuds/ScarletTyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a time, a year ago to be exact, when Richard made a silent, <em>little</em> wish—something that involved Lee and love and happiness. He didn't think he'd ever get something out of that, but tonight. . . </p><p>Tonight, he will be proven wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Business Before Pleasure

 

[ ](http://imgur.com/ikNYAPE)

Whipping off his sunglasses, Lee smirks at the sight that greeted him. 

Dark hair tousled in artful abandon, thick beard gracing an already impressive jawline, and piercing blue-gray eyes that Lee can thank the gods for—how typical of Richard to radiate such a stunning intensity without even trying.

Fingers gripping the door frame, Richard grins back at him through furrowed eyebrows. "What're you doing here?"

"Well, there's some last-minute changes on my sched that'll conflict with your birthday, so. . . Surprise!" Beaming and bouncing on the balls of his feet, Lee offers the glossy, red box to his best friend.

Richard hums his approval after taking a quick peek inside the box. A dozen German chocolate cupcakes topped with buttercream frosting—his all-time favorite that Lee had to charm off the hands of another customer. The poor guy didn't even stand a chance against Lee's million-watt smiles, all powered by his belief that Richard loves nothing more in this universe than dark, sinful chocolate desserts.

"No sense in turning down free food, I suppose," Richard jests as he opens the door wider for Lee. "Sorry for the mess. Wasn't expecting company tonight."

"Oh, please. I've seen this place in way worse condition." Lee makes a beeline to the kitchen as Richard clears away the takeout containers from the coffee table. "Remember your NYE party when we first met? That was _such_ a hot mess."  He picks out a white ceramic platter from the cupboard and arranges as many cupcakes as he can fit on the dish without ruining the design. 

Balancing the platter on one hand, Lee wipes his free hand on his sweatpants before joining Richard on the living room. The curtains are drawn shut, plunging the room in near darkness and shutting them off from the rest of the world. As he sets his load down the table, he catches sight of Richard's laptop, perched precariously on the edge of the black leather couch. His nosiness gets the better of him as he tries to make out the words written on the screen while Richard is hauling away his leftovers to the fridge.

Lee sheds his hoodie and plops down the couch. Tongue caught between his teeth, realization dawns upon him while scrolling down the page.  "Are you really reading your own reviews?"

"Of course!" Richard half-shouts from the kitchen. A few seconds later, he returns with a bottle of Pinot and a pair of crystal glasses. "Don't you?" 

"Nope," Lee answers, turning back to the screen. "What's the use? I know I'm good at what I do."

Richard tuts. "If you're okay with just good, then don't. Not me though. How else do you think I maintain a perfect ten?"

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but you're actually just a nine-point-eight," Lee counters with a scoff as he clicks to the next page of reviews. He hears Richard muttering about the principles of rounding up numbers, which he chooses to ignore in favor of reading.

"Oh, before I forget. . ." Lee rummages inside the pockets of his discarded hoodie and pulls out a little blue candle and lighter. Setting away the laptop, he puts the candle on top of a cupcake before lighting it up on his way to Richard.

"Please don't sing 'Happy Birthday'," Richard grumbles as he sets down the bottle and glasses on the coffee table. "Never learned how to react properly. Do I sing too? Or should I—"

"Just smile and look pretty for me," Lee teases, trying to hold off his laughter at Richard's awkwardness. He holds out the cupcake to Richard on his upturned palm and trades the lighter for his cellphone. "Now, say 'You're the best, Lee!' before making a wish."

Richard rolls his eyes at Lee's instructions, but does as he was told without further complaint. A soft, triumphant chuckle escapes Lee as he captures the moment with a shutter click. He smiles down at the image for a moment before showing it to Richard.

[ ](http://imgur.com/A0p8Nu2)

"Ugh, look at my daft, old face," Richard whines as he scratches his beard. "I'll never let you take my picture again."

"Hey, now. Don't delete it!" Lee snatches his cellphone off Richard's hand and promptly hides it again inside his pocket. He throws a dirty look at his friend, which only earns him a half-suppressed laughter. 

They make their way to the couch again and sit side-by-side, their knees touching despite the ample space left on their sides. Without wasting another second, Lee takes out a smaller box from his hoodie while Richard lets the wine breathe for a moment.

"Happy birthday, old man!" exclaims Lee, waggling his eyebrows as he presents his other gift.

Eyes gleaming in the relative dimness of the room, Richard takes the box from him and gives it a little shake. Lifting off the lid, he cocks his head to the side upon seeing Lee's gifts—a dark purple silk tie with a matching gold tie clip. "And I'm the old man, huh?"

"What? Don't you like it? Thought you love purple." Yes, Lee could have gone for something grander or more expensive, but he didn't want to complicate their relationship with an item that might cross the line between friendship and something else that shall remain unnamed for now. "I think it brings out the blue in your eyes. Plus, I've seen your ties. They're horrible, Rich." He scrunches up his face for emphasis.  "Horrible."

"They are not," Richard argues back while running his fingers over the silk tie, "and I never said that I don't like your gift. I just, uh. . . Thank you for these, and of course, the cupcakes. By the way, how d'you get them on short notice?"

Lee tries to hide his disappointment at his friend's lukewarm reaction. He'll just have to do better on Christmas, then. Dismissing any further thought on this for now, he puts on a quick smile and begins to share his adventures at their favorite patisserie earlier that day. 

With a fond grin, Richard shakes his head at Lee's antics as he helps himself to a cupcake. Lee copies him, pausing every now and then to take a bite. When the story ends with them doubling over with laughter, he picks up the laptop again and goes back to reading the rest of the reviews. Mouth full of chocolate, he points out one to Richard. "LadyAC said you have an excellent tongue."

"And she has excellent tastes," Richard says primly before licking bits of frosting off his fingers. Tamping down the urge to moan in appreciation, Lee denies himself the pleasure of staring at his best friend's famous tongue.

Two years. It has been two years since he has struck up a friendship with Richard. Of course, they have other friends in the business. Evie and Graham, for example, are certainly in their circle, but those two handle the nitty-gritty details—the calls and schedules and payments and yadda yadda.

It is hard to get close with the others—no matter how nice most of them are—because there is this nagging suspicion in Lee's head, a reminder that they are the competition. Also, some have chosen this line of work because they thought they have no other option. Their seductive, secretive world is treated as just another dead-end job. Lee cannot stand this sort of pessimism, and that's what makes Richard so special in his eyes. 

Richard isn't here to pay the bills or to play around. No, Richard is here to make an art out of, well, fucking other people for money. He doesn't compete with the others because he is on a league of his own. Plus, there isn't really much of an overlap in their clientele. Lee is known for his role-playing tricks among their male clients, while Richard is more popular among their female regulars. 

And so, a friendship bloomed between them during one fateful party, nourished by their visits—not dates!—to each other's apartment or to their favorite places around the city.

"Are you going to be busy all night admiring my virtues, or are we going to continue where we left off last week?"

Pouting his lips, Lee puts down the laptop again and reaches for the remote control. "Season 3, right?"

"Yep," confirms Richard as he pours out the wine to their glasses.

When an average person thinks of high-end escorts, a pair of giants in ratty t-shirts and sweatpants vegging out in front of the TV on a Thursday evening would probably never come to mind. Still, everyone is entitled to a day off.

As the opening credits start rolling in, Lee kicks off his shoes and curls up one leg under him. Richard, in turn, settles in closer, sipping his wine as he turns away from the TV for a moment. "So, weirdo of the week?"

"Foot fetish."

"That's it? Common as weed these days," dismisses Richard with a snort.

"Alright, hipster whore," Lee quips back, rolling his eyes. "What about you?" 

"Sisters, one appointment."

"Twins?" 

"Nope."

Lee stops, mid-bite, to stare at Richard. "Are you serious?"

"Oh, yes."

Not that twins make this any less icky, Lee amends. "You're sure?"

"One hundred percent," Richard says before downing the rest of his wine in one gulp. "They were talking about bringing the youngest one with them next time."

"Fine, you win this round," Lee concedes, saluting his friend with his wineglass.

Richard gives him a wry smirk as he refills his drink. "Is this the one where Frank and Claire renew their vows?" he asks, attention back to the TV.

"Yeah, in Gaffney of all places." They dissolve into companionable silence, too engrossed with the show to continue talking.

When the episode has ended, Richard picks up the thread of conversation as though they hadn't stopped. "I had dinner with Graham the other night at that Thai place at the Fifth. We should definitely go back there soon—lots of new items on the menu. Anyway, Bret was also there with Dean." Richard pauses, his eyebrows knitted together. "Have you met Dean already?"

Lee shrugs. "Don't think so."

"He's a med student," Richard clarifies. "Joined about two months ago." 

Eyebrows creeping up to his hairline, Lee chooses not to verbalize his surprise. They really do get all sorts of people in this business. He starts the next episode, but it doesn't cut off their conversation like earlier.

"Anyway," Richard repeats, "Bret's thinking about quitting." 

"He's part of a band, right? 'The Black Seeds' or something like that. Did they get signed?"

"Not yet, but I heard he made friends with an agent on their last gig and—"

"I see." Lee sighs in exasperation. "He found a knight in shining armor to rescue him from this horrible life."

"Don't say it like that," Richard admonishes. "He's really ambitious, but it's not just because of that. . . One of his clients got a bit rough. That's why Dean's also there."

Picking up the remote, Lee pauses the episode. Bret is one of the nicer guys he has worked with, and such news deserves anyone's full attention. 

"Had a few battle scars," Richard says with distant look on his eyes. "A black eye and some scrapes on his arms. Dean patched him up alright, but I could tell he was spooked."

A shuddering breath escapes Lee, prompting his friend to wrap an arm over his shoulders. He buries himself to Richard's side, abandoning his sense of propriety altogether. "How did that happen? They're usually good at checking our clients." A co-worker almost got assaulted in front of him—way back when he was new—and the experience left an ugly, indelible mark on his memory.

"He was new. No previous booking at any of the other agencies," Richard answers while absentmindedly brushing his hand up and down Lee's arm. "Bret said he seemed nervous, so he gave him a drink or two. That's when things went downhill."

"Oh, poor thing."

"Yeah."

Silence ensues, punctuated only by their near-simultaneous sighs. After a moment, Richard leans over Lee and grabs the remote. Episode eight resumes, and so does the calming circles drawn by Richard's fingers on his skin. 

"I had this one bloke," Richard says in a measured tone, after the episode has ended and neither of them felt like starting the next one. "It was years ago. He didn't hit me or anything, but he said some things. Y'know, the usual shit…"

Lee nods in complete understanding.

"He showed up at my old flat one night—still not sure how he even found out where I lived—drunk out of his mind and shouting. I didn't let him in, obviously."

"Did you call the police at least?" 

Richard snorts. "I called Graham. Didn't see what happened next, and Graham never told me, but I'm pretty sure he beat the hell out of that creep."

"Then what?"

"That was the end of it," Richard answers with a shrug of his shoulders. "Never saw him again. I became more cautious, and Graham felt guilty about it. That was before we'd started working with you and Evie. Might've been part of why he agreed, now that I think about it."

"Safety in numbers and all that…"

"Yeah." The arm around Lee's shoulder tightens a bit. "What about you, then?"

"What about me?"

"Had any scary clients?"

"Well, I did get to save another escort once," Lee reminds Richard, having shared that story before. "Other than that, hmmm…Scary? Yes, a few. Dangerous, not so much."

"Of course, of course," Richard teases as he prods a finger to Lee's chest. "Big manly man, too strong for a client to beat you up."

"Well. . ." Lee says with eyes twinkling with mischief, "it costs extra."

The somber cloud over them quickly dissipates as they both crack up, guffawing at the crude joke about their chosen profession.

"Not that it's scary or dangerous, but I've had some clients who got a little too _enthusiastic_ with the hair," Richard shares after recovering from their laughing fit.

Lee reaches up to ruffle Richard's hair. Silky soft and just the right length for some rough sex, he can definitely see the appeal. "It is _very_ tempting," he admits.

"Are you victim blaming, Lee Pace? How disappointing." The flash of humor in Richard's eyes tells another story, however.

Flicking his friend's ear, Lee rolls his eyes at the jibe. "You know what I mean."

"Hmm…Do I?" Richard quirks up an eyebrow, still pretending to be offended.

In retaliation, Lee pinches the bridge of Richard's nose, knowing how much his friend dislikes attention to that part of his body. Richard swipes away his hand with huff, as expected.

Secretly enjoying their childish games, Lee sticks out his tongue at his friend. "I had a client yank my wig off by accident. Can't say which of us was more surprised."

This time, Richard curls a lock of Lee's wavy, brown hair around his fingers. "Shame you'd have to cover this up."

"He thought so, too."

"D'you ever think about quitting?" asks Richard out of the blue.

"What, the role-playing?"

"The job," Richard clarifies while tugging gently at his friend's hair.

Lee sighs and disengages from Richard. Picking up the bottle of wine, he begins to refill their drinks. "Nope. Why would I want to?"

"I dunno. . . Maybe if you meet someone," Richard says as he accepts the wineglass, "like Bret did. A nice bloke plus the job you've always wanted." 

Tucking himself back to Richard's side, Lee sips his drink as he considers his answer. Again, Richard's arm drapes over his shoulders without prompt.

"I like this job," Lee says after a moment. "I'm not like him, trying to make ends meet while I wait for my big break. I wanted this life, and I knew what I was getting into."

"You _honestly_ like it?"

"Well, you see, people _pay me_ to have sex," Lee explains with all the gravitas he can muster. 

"Really?" Richard asks, wide-eyed and visibly struggling to maintain a straight face. "I've _never_ heard of such a thing. Tell me more."

Snickering, Lee takes a sip of his wine. "It's always an adventure, isn't it? Different people, different fantasies. You never know what you're gonna get. Plus, the pay's not too shabby." 

"Yeah," Richard agrees, finally allowing a grin to form on his wine-stained lips. "Can't beat that."

"Is that why you do it? For fun? Or is it the money?"

"A bit of both, sure." Richard sinks to the back of the couch, head resting on the soft leather so that he is staring up at the ceiling. "I like. . . I like the people. You meet all kinds, but they're all so desperate for company, for some sort of connection. It's nice to give that to them, even if it's just for a short while."

"Wow."

Richard drops his gaze and turns to Lee again. "Was that a pretentious thing to say?"

"No, not really," Lee reassures him, "but you did get a bit philosophical about fucking."

"You know what I mean."

Lee grins. "Yeah, I do."

They get to watch four more episodes, bicker over which toppings to put on the pizza, and finish their dinner before Richard chases Lee out of the flat with a reminder to sleep early for their run the following day.

Lee groans as he puts back on his hoodie. He is not exactly a morning person, but Richard is.

One of the perks of their job is the schedule, but they still have to allot a portion of their time off for some cardio and weights. Jogging three times a week with Richard is a ritual by now, and he truly enjoys the company—even the running itself. However, he has yet to convince his friend that it is possible to do it at some other time besides the crack of dawn. 

They also have this tradition of competing on the last half mile. The loser buys breakfast. Lee would never lose on purpose, of course, but if he had to pay for coffee and scones, it also meant that he had gotten a nice view of Richard's ass, so it all evens out for him.

Just as Lee is settling into the back of the cab, his other cellphone rings—the  one dedicated just for work.

"It's my day off," Lee sing-songs in greeting.

"I know, I know," says Evie on the other end. "I hate to interrupt your visit to the museum or theater or all those other fascinating dates you do with Richard, but—"

"They're fun, they're _not_ dates, and we spent the day in, thank you very much."

"Oh, really…" Evie sounds sinfully intrigued, making Lee sigh in exasperation.

"We just celebrated his birthday in advance since you booked me on Monday night, so shut up."

Evie giggles. "All snuggled up together, feeding each other chocolates, and making heart eyes at each other. You're forgetting I know how you operate, sweetie."

"Is there a reason for your call?" Lee asks breezily. Evie cannot make him blush. He is a professional escort, for fuck's sake. It's just a bit warm inside the taxi, that's all.

"All work and no play. Fine," Evie relents in a long-suffering tone. "Really sorry about the resched, by the way. He's a regular, and you did agree to do it."

"Yeah, yeah. I told you it's fine. Work comes first, you know me."

"That's great to hear," Evie says, "because I've got you another job. How does a Sunday night threesome sound?"

Two nights in a row, Lee observes as he marks down the date on his planner. Nothing new about that. "I'm free all evening."

"Good. You were asked for personally—or rather, one of your characters. Haven't specified which one though."

"Ten o'clock?"

Evie hums. "Better make it nine, babe."

"And what sort of. . .clients?" asks Lee, keenly aware of the driver's sudden interest on him.

"Only one, actually," Evie clarifies. "He just likes to watch. All night. I would've hated to say no."

"Okay. . ." Lee drawls before pouting his lips. Overnight at a hotel with half his usual fee for threesomes, and the client only wants to watch? He might just win the next Weirdo of Week.

"That's pretty much what I said to him, too. But, hey, we're not here to judge."

"We should put that on our business cards," Lee quips back, earning a round of giggles from Evie. "Who's the other one, then?"

"One of our new boys. Aidan. He's fun, you'll like him."

"Okay, but it's usually me and Orlando." Lee is no stranger to threesomes, of course. A job with a female escort is rare, so he had almost exclusively worked with Orlando for as long as he can remember.

"As much as it breaks my heart to separate my golden pair, he can't 'cause he's booked that night, too."

"Hmmm. . . alright, then." Lee chews his bottom lip, thinking ahead already of how awkward this job can be. "I'll make do with. . . Aidan."

"The client didn't have a preference for your partner, so I picked him out just for you. Honest to god, Lee, he's got great reviews, and quite dashing, if I may say so myself.

Lee picks up the way Evie practically gushes about this newbie. Interesting, he notes to himself, deciding to keep an eye on how this pairing would develop. "What more can I ask for, eh?"

"Graham's vetted them both, and as always, I'll be in all night, so no worries there."

"Okay, then," Lee relents with a fond grin though she can't see him do so. "Thanks, Evie." Pushing away his reservations about his new partner, Lee ends the call and wonders which of his characters he would get to play for their odd client.

 

* * *

 

Richard fidgets with his sleeves as he waits for the lift doors to open. He isn't anxious per se, and he _certainly_ isn't squirming. Perhaps, just a little on edge, but he has every right to be. He had a job this afternoon and had just gotten back to his flat when Graham called, ranting about how Aidan canceled at the last minute.

Given the fact that it's short notice and their whole agency is secretly terrified of Evie's temper, Graham was desperate for someone to fill in for the fickle newbie. In the spirit of helping out a mate while also earning good money, Richard agreed even before asking where and when the appointment is. What a bloody lapse in judgment. When Graham told him the job is in less than two hours on other side of the city, the relief in his voice had been so obvious that Richard didn't have the heart to back out.

It really wouldn't have been so bad—he had an extra suit on standby and the traffic wasn't that terrible—but as he was rushing through his shower and shave, he realized that Graham had failed to mention who he was sharing the job with. He was also too busy tamping down the completely irrational flare of indignity. At this point of his career, most of his clients ask for him specifically. And so between the hair and the socks and finally getting a cab, Richard hasn’t slowed down long enough to call back and ask.

Doesn't really matter, he assures himself as the lift door opens with a sharp ping. He is a professional. He will cooperate with whoever it is just as he will apologize to the client for being late. 

Richard knocks at the door of Room 403, and is answered by a generically handsome, lightly tanned man, a bit shorter, but broader than him. There is something familiar about him, but Richard cannot pinpoint what it is at the moment. Dark, wavy hair. Warm, brown eyes. Chiseled, sharp jawline. Richard's nape prickles at the thought that he has definitely seen this man before.

"John Porter, right?" the man says with a smile, his hand stuck out in greeting. "The woman from the agency called yesterday and said there'd been a  bit of a. . . scheduling mishap?

At least, he is at the right door. John Porter is one of his many aliases—his most preferred, to be honest. He can certainly be Porter tonight. "That's right," he confirms, plastering on his most charming grin as they shake hands. "So sorry for the trouble."

"Oh, it happens. I understand. I'm Luke, by the way," the man says, waving away his apology. Luke then opens the door wider and ushers Richard inside. "We were just having a chat while waiting for you."

Stepping inside, Richard realizes that the hotel room is actually a suite. He walks into a softly lit sitting room, furnished with a red velvet loveseat and two stylish but uncomfortable-looking chairs encircling a glass coffee table. A subtle trace of something floral fills the air, enveloping him as his gaze zeroes in on the biggest surprise of the night, yet.

Sitting on the loveseat, holding a glass of red wine she isn't actually drinking, wearing an elegant but understated black dress, is a woman that he has only seen before in the photos shared by Lee.

_Calpernia Addams._

Aside from those photos, Richard has never seen his best mate in character before tonight. Lee holds himself so differently, he observes with wide, unblinking eyes. If not for his prior knowledge of his friend's trade secrets, he would never believe that Lee and Calpernia are the same person.

Mouth still gaping slightly, Richard notes that Calpernia's posture and expression are just as precise as the subtle makeup and blonde wig. Staring at him—no, _her—_ is unnerving, and it makes Richard wonder if she felt the same way because she has stiffened for the briefest of moments before standing and smiling at him in greeting. That tiny hitch in her otherwise flawless performance snaps Richard out of his daze. 

If he fucks this up, she will suffer the consequences, too.

Heart racing at this unexpected turn of events, Richard clenches his fists into tight balls of calm and control. So what if he has a tiny, little crush on his best mate? He is a whore. He knows how to hide his feelings.

While Richard is still sorting himself out, Calpernia takes control of the situation and leads them to the bedroom before ushering Luke off to the shower with a toothbrush and a sweet smile. She hasn't dropped her façade yet, but Richard sees it falter a bit again. A spark of warmth flashes in her green eyes, and he feels his shoulders begin to fall at ease.

"Are you okay with this?" Calpernia asks in a hushed voice.

Richard nods quickly.

"Did you know that I was. . .?"

"No, Graham called me about an hour and a half ago," Richard explains. "Didn't have the time to grill him about the job."

Calpernia's eyes widen. "Hour and a half? God, he owes you big-time." She takes a step back and looks at him up and down. 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Richard casts a quick, furtive glance at his suit. "What? Do I look that bad?"

"No, no," Calpernia says hurriedly, moving closer to him again. "You're still gorgeous." She straightens his dark purple tie and touches the golden clip with her fingers. "Told you this would look perfect on you."

Richard stares at the hand touching him, pleased that he had chosen to wear Lee's birthday gifts tonight, though he didn't actually intend to do so. The thing is, purple isn't his favorite color. He didn't even _have_ a favorite color until that one time where Lee tried to guess and picked purple out of all the colors. His friend was smiling like a little kid, so giddy and excited, that Richard couldn't help but nod and tell him he's correct. Lee's smile grew even wider, so proud of himself for having guessed it right on his first try. From then on, purple became Richard's color, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"You're beautiful, too," Richard says with a soft grin.

It may just be the lighting, but he swears that Calpernia actually appears to be blushing. It's a dazzling sight to behold, Richard admits but only to himself. "I, uh. . . Shall we—" 

"Oh, shit," Calpernia exclaims as she darts for her handbag. "Need to call Evie before she sends out the cavalry."

Out of habit, Richard reaches down for his own mobile in his pocket. Technically, Calpernia can confirm for the both of them, so he doesn't need to call the agency as well. However, there is a niggling thought forming at the back of mind, since most of its processing power is devoted to the sway of Lee's—no, Calpernia's—hips as she walks away from him. She paces in front of the window, talking with her hands waving around again even though Evie cannot actually see her. From where he stands, she seems to be hissing something else other than the usual 'My client does not appear to be Jack the Ripper' conversation, so he hangs back to give her some privacy.

Suddenly, something clicks in Richard's head, prompting him to call Graham's personal line.

"Richard," Graham says in greeting, sounding awfully terse for someone who answered on the second ring.

"Hello, Graham," Richard greets back with a forced smile that his mate is guaranteed to have heard in his voice. "Just wanted to let you know that I made it to the appointment despite the short notice."

"Good. How—how are things over there?"

Richard rolls his eyes, taking the man's odd reaction as a confirmation that he is right to be suspicious over this job. "Since you've taken such a _personal_ interest, Calpernia and I are fine."

Graham clears his throat. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Calpernia is still stalking before the window, absorbed in her own conversation. Richard turns away from her and dropped his voice even lower. "The client said that Evie called yesterday to tell him I was coming instead of Aidan."

"Did she? She didn't mention anything to me," Graham grunts. "I did find a note this afternoon saying that Aidan's not available, but that's it."

"Hmmm…"

"Perhaps you've just missed her text. She's a busy woman, Richard. Can't be bothered to call sometimes."

It won't be the first time, Richard concedes, but still. "Okay, let's say that's what happened. How come you didn't say the job is with Lee?"

"Why? What's wrong? I thought you two get along well," Graham fires back at him. "Is he mad at you? Did you say something stupid?"

"What? No, no, no," Richard replies, rubbing a hand over his face. "I told you, we're fine. It's just. . . We've never worked together before." 

"Okay. . . ?"

"Really? The whole agency, and I end up on a job with him?"

Graham lets out a harsh sigh. "Why are you being so stubborn about this? Honestly, I'm beginning to think you don't want to shag him."

"It's not that," Richard says a little too quickly. Shaking his head, he adds on a more subdued tone, "It just surprised me, that's all. . ."

"And what? You think I had something to do with it? The world doesn't revolve around you, King Richard." 

"Alright, alright," Richard relents, recognizing he is defeated.

"Are you alright?" Grahams asks sharply, suddenly all business once again.

"Yes," Richard assures him, realizing a little too late that he inadvertently got too close to their code phrase. "Everything's fine here, really."

"Okay, then," Graham backs down. "Stop being a prissy little prick and do your job."

Richard rolls his eyes again. "Yes, sir," he says, resisting the urge to salute.

When he hangs up, Calpernia is staring away at the view from the window, tapping her mobile against her lips. Her shoulders stiffen a bit when she notices Richard watching her from the corner.

"Sorry," Richard says, raking a hand through his hair. "Everything okay?"

Calpernia nods her head slowly. "Yeah, it's just that my client tomorrow evening rescheduled again. Gotta move things around my calendar. Nothing to worry about." 

"I see. I, uh. . . I missed the briefing earlier. Can you fill me in while waiting for uhmmm. . . Luke?"

"Oh, right." Calpernia glances briefly the bathroom door, behind of which is their client, still taking a shower.

Cracking his knuckles, Richard tries to recover his cool while Calpernia gives him the rundown. There is a reason behind his choice of alias. Over time, he has become an expert at packing himself away and becoming someone else's _John_.

John Porter.

John Proctor, sometimes.

John Thornton, for a bit of variety.

John is such an unassuming, flavorless name, making it the perfect base for his clients', oft-times, delicious fantasies.

Sure, Richard has been a bit off-kilter earlier, but he is also adaptable and quick-thinking. As he listens, he carefully puts on his mask for tonight.

John _Fucking_ Porter.

Conventional.

Powerful.

Stoic.

From what Calpernia is telling him, Porter needs to be a backdrop to let her shine tonight. He will have to be generic enough to let the client imagine himself in Porter's place. Calpernia will be the center of attention. The professional escort in him—though most of him still harbors lingering suspicions about Graham's involvement in this job—is sort of grateful and, frankly speaking, a bit excited. If he has to play second fiddle to anyone, he would rather it be Lee. Calpernia, dammit. _Cal-per-nia._

"Lose the jacket," Calpernia concludes as her nimble fingers loosen up his tie. "Take this off and unbutton your shirt, too."

Porter obeys and steps out of his shoes as well. Calpernia pulls her dress over her head and adjusts her stockings. She then herds him to the bed, and just as the shower stops, they are both lounging in languid carelessness, relaxed and waiting.

"Oh," Calpernia murmurs, half-turning to face him again. "One more thing."

The first kiss is light, gentle, just a whisper against his lips, but it still manages to take his breath away. Then, Calpernia closes her eyes and pulls him back for a proper snog, fingers tangling with his hair and teeth grazing his lower lip. Porter cups her cheek to keep her in place, barely hearing Luke emerging from the bathroom door. They carry on for a moment longer before looking up expectantly.

"Oh, you're perfect," Luke breathes, dark eyes raking over the pair of them.

Porter knows without looking that Calpernia's inviting look is just as sensual and heavy-lidded as his own. A deep flush spreads over Luke's chest, and he begins to toy with the towel wrapped around his waist.

"We were waiting for you," purrs Calpernia, stretching out her hand to him. 

Luke sways forward to take it, unable to resist. However, rather than let her reel him in further, he halts and presses his lips to the back of her hand—an oddly reserved gesture, given what is going to happen next. "I wouldn't want to impose."

Calpernia drops her hand slowly. "Are you sure?"

"We really won't mind," adds Porter.

"This is what I prefer, honestly," Luke claims, gaze darting from Porter to Calpernia. He moves around the bed and settles sideways on the padded bench at its foot, propping his head up with an upturned arm.

Calpernia turns to face their client and sits up on her knees, while Porter shifts to sprawl across the bed.

"I'm sure this is hardly the strangest request you've heard," Luke continues, his dark eyes shining with lust. "Believe me, this is all it takes to make me happy."

"If you're sure. . ." Calpernia cocks her head to the side. Porter can practically hear the sultry grin in her voice, even though he can't see her face from where he is lying down. "Let us know if you've changed your mind."

When Calpernia turns back to Porter, there is a slight frown on her face. No doubt she is just as confused and a little concerned for their odd client. Porter reaches out to smooth out the tiny fold between her eyebrows before cradling the side of her face on the palm of his hand. He pulls her down and kisses her until she releases the side of her lower lip from between her teeth, soothing it with his tongue. 

After a few more kisses, Calpernia opens up to him, teasing and tasting with her tongue. Her hands slip into his open shirt and wander around in shapeless patterns. Before too long, her touches move up to his shoulders, prompting Richard to free himself of the garment.

Calpernia presses herself against his bare chest, and Porter obligingly falls back. As she kisses her way down his throat, he rests his hands on her thighs. The delicious smoothness of her silk stockings meets his touch, but he prefers the little strips of skin exposed between the stockings and the lacy edges of her lingerie.

When Porter lets his fingers trace patterns on her thighs, she tips her head back and breathes out a low, shaky moan. She might be in control tonight, but he isn't her client, there to take his own pleasure without ever returning the favor.

A glance at Luke tells Porter that the man is starting to lose himself in the moment—his hooded gaze fixed on where Porter's hands meet Calpernia's flesh. Porter briefly relinquishes his hold to push back the curtain of her hair, sharing with Luke her dark, gleaming eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

Calpernia gives Porter a wink—a reward and a challenge—before sitting back to peel off her stockings in long, slow movements. If he has ceased breathing, surely it is just because she has braced herself on his chest when she swung over a  leg to straddle him once more.

Porter's hope that his reaction would go unnoticed is dashed away when Calpernia shoots him with a knowing smirk. Skin just barely brushing against his body, she crawls down while her gaze flicks sideways now and then to keep Luke's attention on her.

Calpernia presses a hot kiss just below Porter's navel, which he rewards with a guttural moan. Most of his clients like it when he is loud and vocal, so he indulges them when he can, often exaggerating his reactions. This time, however, is different, and Porter believes that Calpernia can tell.

Before Porter has the time to catch his breath, Calpernia unbuttons his trousers and hooks her fingers to pull it down along with his pants. She then reaches out to his side, tears off a condom between her teeth, and rolls it down his erection. Porter arches his hips in response, and if she hadn't looked so smug, he wouldn't have flipped them over so quickly.

Calpernia takes in their reversed positions with a startled huff that soon transforms into a breathy laugh. A throaty groan immediately follows this when Porter turns his attention to her black satin corset. It looks lovely on her, and as soon as he got it out of the way, he discovers that her bare skin tastes just as lovely as it feels. Calpernia is wonderfully responsive beneath his hands and mouth, but he doesn't allow himself to speculate how much of it is just an act.

Porter decides to check on their client and observes that Luke is captivated, his breathing quick and shallow. The arm he isn't leaning on moves steadily below Richard's line of sight.

Satisfied that the client is happy, Porter turns back his attention to Calpernia. She has taken off the rest of her lingerie in his moment of distraction and hooked her legs around his hips. Porter ignores her impatient tugging, and instead, skates his fingers from her nipple to her groin and then further down to her hole. Her jaw drops and her eyes flutter shut as he teases her entrance. Pleased with her reaction, Porter reaches for the lube with his other hand, and coats his fingers and cock with it.

When Porter begins to open her up, alternating quick, light strokes and deep, hooked ones, Calpernia's hand clenches on his arse while the other one dives into his hair. He leans into that touch with low growl—certainly not a purr—deep from his chest.

Calpernia rolls her hips, deliberately rubbing herself against his erection. The rhythm of his fingers falter at the welcome sensation, and he lets his head drop to nip at her collarbone. She stiffens ever so slightly, but immediately relaxes again. Porter knows better than to leave to a mark after all. He shifts to give the other side the same treatment, and this time, Calpernia moans in appreciation.

Just as his teeth eases away from her skin, Calpernia rolls her hips again, dislodging Richard's fingers inside her. Porter's hand scrambles to get back to his ministrations, but she tangles her legs with his and in a flurry of movement, she is on top again, gloriously naked and proud as any queen. She throws back her head as she slowly sinks onto his cock, gasping and laughing breathlessly on her way down.

Porter turns his head to the side and bites his bottom lip, trying to rein in his impulse to thrust his hips up. He catches a glimpse of their client, and it makes him wonder if he looks as awestruck as Luke does right now.

When his cock is fully sheathed inside Calpernia, Porter trembles with the effort of keeping himself still. He doesn't know how much time has passed before Calpernia starts moving, but when she does, his hips automatically matches her slow, rocking rhythm. The hypnotizing movement builds up between them until they are both panting, his fingers gripping her thighs and hers clawing the sheets on either side of his head. He opens his eyes to stare straight into her dark, smoldering gaze.

Without looking away, Porter wraps his hand around Calpernia's shaft, eager to bring her to climax. A few light strokes and one flick of his thumb to the head, she comes and spills herself on his stomach. Her cries of pleasure might have just been part of the show, but the hot, sticky mess between them and the clenching muscles around his cock are real enough. He follows her after a few deep, hard thrusts, arching off the bed as intense pleasure ripples through his body. He continues to rock his hips up and down, gentler now but still inside her to ease them back down. Calpernia rests her head on his chest, boneless and gasping for air.

Porter has barely enough energy to turn his head, but he manages a smile when he finds Luke just as sated as he is, sprawled half on the bed with his cheek on his forearm.

"That was amazing," says Luke when he opens his eyes again.

Calpernia remains silent, but she lifts up her head to press her lips to the center of Richard's chest. He strokes her back in idle patterns and slips out of her slowly with an obscene, wet pop.

After a brief moment, Luke stumbles up to his feet as Porter takes off the condom and ties it up for disposal. She sits up almost as quickly, ignoring Porter's grumble when she uses his chest for leverage again. 

"Ready to join us?" asks Calpernia, winking at their client for good measure. 

"I, uhmm. . . N-no," Luke stammers. "It's wonderful. It really was, but I, uhmmm. . ." He makes a vague gesture with his arm, his face dripping with uneasiness. "I should go." Without waiting for a reply, he darts back into the loo and shuts the door behind him.

Calpernia turns her confused gaze back to Porter. He is just as clueless as her so he just shrugs back at her.

Luke comes out again before either of them has bothered to move. He is neatly dressed once more, not a hair out of place. "Feel free to stay the night," he says as he sits down the couch to lace up his shoes. "The room is booked through tomorrow morning. Thank you both again. It was lovely." 

"Wait!" Calpernia scrambles after him. "Hang on." She catches Luke's arm with a gentle tug, her other hand covering her crotch—a rather unnecessary gesture of modesty. She peers into his face with a quick smile. "You really don't have to rush off. After all, you've paid for the whole night."

Luke, however, is already shaking his head.

"Are you sure there's nothing else we can do, mate?" Porter butts in.

"I'm good, really. It's just what I wanted."

With a final tight-lipped grin, Luke heads for the door without looking back.

Calpernia and Porter shares another look of utter confusion.

"I guess we've got the same weirdo of the week," says Porter with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I have to cover my entire body with blue edible paint on Thursday," Calpernia counters absentmindedly, picking up his shirt and shaking out the wrinkles.

Porter begins to wonder if she means to hand it over to him or put it on, but he ends up hoping for both. Some primal part of his brain desperately wants to see her in his clothing, but his current state of undress might make his appreciation a little too obvious.

"Did he even come?" Calpernia asks out of the blue.

Porter nods to the door. "He just went."

Calpernia throws the shirt at his head with more force than is strictly necessary.

"I mean, yes. I'm pretty sure he did."

"Really? I was a little. . ."

When Calpernia doesn’t continue, Porter glances at her and notices her cheeks have turned pink again. "What?"

"Shut up." 

"What?"

"Nothing," Calpernia insists. "I'm going to get a shower." She strides to the loo without meeting his eye. 

"A little what?" Porter calls after her.

Calpernia sticks her head out the bathroom, her lower lip caught between her teeth. "Distracted," she mumbles before shutting the door with a resounding click of the lock.

Dropping back down the bed, Porter wallows in that admission for a moment. It is always nice to know that he is good at his job, but he can't let himself think about that for too long. He gets up again and disposes of the condom, gathers up their scattered clothing and counts the contents of both envelopes on top of the coffee table. Both contain a large tip in addition to their already substantial fees. Luke may have been an odd duck, but at least he is generous and considerate. Nonetheless, Porter refuses to let himself hope that the man would become a regular.

When the bathroom door opens again, Calpernia is long gone and in her place is Lee Pace, trailing a cloud of steam. "I now understand why Luke took forever in that shower," he says while finger-combing the knots out of the blonde wig. "It's heaven in there, Rich."

And with just that, they are back to being Richard and Lee. Best mates extraordinaire.

When they traded places, Richard admits that Lee is right. The water temperature and pressure are perfect, and he feels the last remaining tension in his muscles dwindle away. It smells lovely as well, though the lingering scent doesn't match any of the shampoos and soaps provided by the hotel. Lee probably brings his own set.

After a few more minutes under the shower, Richard returns to the bedroom, which is now dim and quiet. The ornate lamp on the bedside table cast the only light in the room. It actually feels calm and cozy despite the night's earlier hot and heavy atmosphere.

"Uh. . . Lee?" 

The top of the duvet flips back to reveal his rumple-haired friend.

"You've _got_ to feel these sheets." 

Richard smirks as he trades the damp towel around his waist for his boxers. He then slides in beside Lee with a little sigh. 

Lee turns to his side, facing Richard with his chin propped up on his arm. "What d'you think?"

Cocooned in Egyptian cotton sheets with a thread count in the thousands, Richard lets out another sigh as he shuts his eyes. "What time is the checkout again?" 

Lee chuckles softly. "Eleven o'clock. Called down to confirm while you're in the shower."

"Wake me up at ten, okay?"

Humming to himself, Lee burrows into Richard's side. Richard curls an arm around him, and feels something cool and silky beneath his palms. Not one of the hotel robes, he observes, making him wonder what sort of things Lee keeps in his bag.

"D'you really wanna stay?" Lee mumbles to his neck.

Richard groans. "Do you?"

Lee doesn't say anything as he lays down his head on Richard's chest. In turn, Richard brushes his fingers through the damp locks of Lee's hair.

"This is pretty nice," Lee says after a moment. Richard hums back in agreement.

"And it's already paid for," Lee continues. "Shame to waste it." 

"My thoughts exactly," Richard agrees, hugging Lee a little tighter, "and it's my birthday."

Lee lifts up his head a bit to look at the wall clock to their right. "Not quite yet."

Richard follows his gaze and squints at the numbers. A little less than an hour, then. "Well, it's definitely my birthday in. . . New Zealand."

Lee snorts. "Close enough." Silence envelops them after that, only to be disrupted by Lee again. "D'you usually stay the night?"

"Depends on the client." 

"No, I mean like this." Lee sweeps his arm over their lying forms.

"Ahh, nope. I'd rather have my own bed," Richard says, "or another job."

"But when you stay with the client, do you sleep?"

"Not if I can help it. Screaming nightmares aren't exactly what they pay for," Richard answers wryly.

Lee turns his gaze up at him, frowning. "You've slept on my couch loads of times. Never heard you."

Richard squirms and chooses to remain silent, unable to explain how Lee's mere presence soothes him.

After a moment, Lee drops their topic and instead, settles down half on top of Richard, one arm over his stomach and a knee propped on his own. He shifts around some more, as if seeking the most comfortable position, when suddenly his hands end up groping Richard's hips.

Richard bites back a yelp of surprise. 

"Your boxers has pockets in it?" Lee asks incredulously.

"Yeah," Richard says, "They're handy."

Lee's snort turns into giggles, and then into a full-blown laughter that makes him curl up into a shaking ball, his hands over his face.

"It's not funny at all, Lee." Richard pouts, his eyebrows drawn together for the joke has gone over his head.

"'They're handy'," Lee wheezes. He catches his breath while wiping away some stray tears from the corner of his eyes. "Go on, then. What's so important for you to keep it _that_ close?"

Five condoms of various kinds, two packets of lube, a red silk ribbon, and a business card for the agency, as it turns out. Richard spreads them on the duvet over his lap, and Lee picks through them with shameless curiosity.

Picking up the ribbon, Lee weaves it between his fingers in a mesmerizing pattern that makes Richard's throat go dry. Lee then fans out the condoms like a hand of cards, eyes sparkling with humor as he singles out the one that claims to be chocolate-flavored. "You and your sweet tooth," he teases before dropping the rest back on Richard's lap. 

When Lee has looked his fill, Richard deposits his little hoard on the bedside table, though he lets his friend keep the ribbon. "These are not very comfortable to sleep on," he admits while returning to Lee's side.

Lee continues to toy with the now-frayed edges of the ribbon. "You're planning on sleeping, then?"

"This bed is divine, and the company isn't too shabby," Richard answers, "and I'm awfully tired for some reason." He eyes Lee sideways and witnesses the pink creeping up on Lee's cheeks again. It is a little more obvious now for his makeup has been scrubbed off during the shower.

"No three-mile run at the crack of dawn?" Lee inquires.

"Well, if you've got your heart set on it—"

"Nah, that's okay," Lee cuts in with a simper.

"Go to sleep, then," Richard says, tugging Lee closer before nuzzling the top of his head.

It feels oddly domestic, as if they are just an ordinary couple going to bed on a Sunday night. However, they aren't a couple, ordinary or otherwise, and a few years ago, the very thought of such a thing would have sent him into panic. Now, even though he knows it would never be real, Richard lets himself take comfort in pretending. 

"It was nice," Lee whispers without removing his head from its rightful place over Richard's heart.

"Hmmm?"

"Tonight," Lee says a bit louder. "It was. . . nice."

Richard's sluggish brain tries to work out what Lee has said. Nice, he repeats to himself until the sleepy fog around his head disappears completely. "Yeah," he says, his voice sounding a bit rough to his ears. "It was. . . It was great. Almost like how—" He bites down his tongue, realizing what he is just about to say. Apparently, his brain isn't as awake as he thought it is.

"Hmmm?" Lee echoes, tilting his head up. "Almost like what?"

Perhaps it is the quiet intimacy of the room or the dimness that lends some air of secrecy that allows Richard to finish the thought aloud. "Almost like how I thought it would be."

Lee stares at him with an unreadable expression, still and quiet like the room had been just now.

"Didn't imagine the audience," Richard adds with a shaky laugh. When Lee still doesn't answer, he feels a cold shiver run down his spine. "Or the hotel room. I mean, we both have perfectly serviceable beds or couches or kitchen tables. And. . . and we frequent each other's flats on a regular basis so the odds of this happening somewhere else would've been— I, uh . . . There's always the chance that it would be part of a job, of course. That's a given, but—" 

Lee puts up a finger over Richard's lips, trapping his rambling words inside. "You've thought about. . . us?"

Richard doesn't trust himself to do more than nod.

"You've thought about _me_?"

A crossroad, that's what this is. This conversation can take two vastly different paths depending on his answer. He can practically feel the possibilities thrumming in the air around them. 

Does John admire Calpernia—or whichever character Lee is playing—as one professional to another?

Or does Richard have feelings for Lee—regardless of their chosen profession—as a friend who wants to be something more?

Richard doesn't deserve Lee. Of that, he has been certain. Not one of his personas is worth any of Lee's. In any way, shape or form.

Lee is bold and compassionate and so gloriously alive that there have been times when Richard berated himself for even thinking about him.

Lee is his best mate, and Richard lives in fear of the day when Lee would finally realize that he can do so much better and leave him behind.

Wasted potential, that's all Richard is. All that he can ever be. He cannot bear to drag Lee down with him. He can't do that to his friend.

"Rich?"

The hesitation in Lee's voice draws Richard's attention back to the present. Lee's dark green eyes are wide and unguarded as they stare at each other. He seems to be waiting for an answer, making Richard wonder how long he has been lost in thought. He decides to collect himself again, to let John's strong but casual demeanor to protect Richard's fortified heart.

However, Lee seems to recognize that Richard has put on his mask again. The warm, but nervous expression on his face closes off. He pulls away, shutting his eyes in pained resignation.

Oh. _Oh._

"Lee," Richard says as he dares himself to hope. He reaches out and lets his fingers trace away the troubled lines on Lee's beautiful face.

"Sorry," Lee interrupts Richard before he can get another word in. "I hoped— I just thought that maybe you—"

Lee freezes when Richard suddenly pulls him forward for a kiss. Getting no response whatsoever, Richard is certain that he has made a terrible mistake. He tries to lean back and retreat, but then Lee's lips curve into a smile before chasing after his lips.

Without breaking the kiss, Richard hoists Lee on top of him again, and Lee eagerly wraps himself around Richard, grabbing a fistful of hair with his hand. They part after a moment to catch their breath, foreheads pressed together and noses brushing each other's. 

Richard doesn’t deserve Lee. Of that, he is still absolutely certain. However, he cannot refuse the man anything that is in his power to give.

"Is this—"

"Are you sure that—"

"Do you really—"

Why can't he form a sentence when he actually needed to?

"Spit it out," Lee murmurs, leaning down to nibble on Richard's ear, which is really, incredibly unfair. Also, brilliant, to be perfectly honest.

"How do you—ahhh. . . That is to say. . ." Richard wants to tug on his hair out of frustration, but Lee has already staked his claim on that, and his own hands refuse to move anyway from their steady grip on Lee's arse. No wonder his mind is chasing itself in circles.

"You can have anyone in the world," Richard finally bursts out.

"I know," Lee says calmly before switching ears, "but for the longest time, I was afraid that you didn't want me back."

"Don't think that," Richard says fiercely, tightening his grip on Lee. "Don't ever, ever think that."

"There we are, then." Lee straightens up and licks his lips.

"I should probably say something about ruining our friendship," Richard says while tracing the curve of Lee's hips with his fingers.

"Nah," Lee counters with a laugh that makes Richard's heart stutter. "I think we're already past that point. That's just a pile of dust and rubble now."

"No turning back," Richard says with a grin so wide that he can actually feel his cheeks starting to ache.

Lee responds with his blinding, perfect smile. "Now, you're getting it."

Out of nowhere, a knock on the door pulls their attention away from each other.

"Did you order room service or something?"

Lee shakes his head.

In his entire life, Richard has never been more reluctant to move, but common courtesy and a bit of curiosity dictate the he must. Lee scrambles off of him with a quick peck to his cheek and adjusts his robe. Richard does the best he can with his pants as he pads after him. The door beeps and clicks open just as they reach it.

"Ah, sorry," Luke says, eyes widening at the sight of them. "I figured you two had already gone."

"No, no. We were just, uh. . ." Richard waves his hand around as words start to fail him again.

"Right," Luke says absentmindedly, his gaze fixed upon Lee. Richard turns to his side and realizes that the man must be surprised to see Lee out of character.

"Hello there," Lee greets with a little wave of his hand. "Yeah, this is boring, old me."

Luke snaps out from his reverie with a shake of his head. "Huh? What d'you— You're still gorgeous." He rubs a hand to the back of his neck. "Anyway, I've lost my mobile, and I hope it's in here somewhere."

Using his own mobile, Lee dials Luke's number without further ado, and they all stand in various parts of the suite, looking a bit silly with their heads tilted to side to listen for any sign of the missing mobile.  A buzzing from the couch in the middle room draws their attention, and Richard retrieves the wayward item from between its cushions.

With all that sorted out, Luke thanks them again and bids a good night. "Don't have too much fun," he says with an uncharacteristic playful grin as he pulls the door close.

"No such thing," Richard growls to Lee's ears.

Lee giggles and trails his fingers down Richard's arm. "Oh, but we'll never know unless we try." He entwines their hands together and leads them back to the bed. Pushing Richard down the mattress, Lee signals for him to wait—for what, Richard isn't sure. 

"Weren't we talking about something important?" asks Richard as he watches Lee fetch something from the coffee table. 

"Yes, very," Lee answers, bringing along the dark purple tie—his birthday gift—on his way back to the bed. He drapes himself over Richard, who immediately latches his lips on the base of Lee's throat. 

"About moving forward, right?" Lee tugs Richard's arms up towards the headboard, eyes darkening with lust.

"Ahh, yes." Desire courses through Richard's veins upon realizing what Lee intends to do. He grinds his hips against Lee's, but grabs hold of the spokes of the headboard to keep himself in place. His tongue continues to lavish attention to Lee's throat while his wrists are being bound together with the necktie.

When the deed is done, Lee sits up again on Richard's lap before cupping a hand over the tented area of his boxers. Richard pushes himself against the warm touch, but Lee shifts away his hand and crawls up until they are face to face once more.

"Actually, I was thinking," Lee whispers to Richard's lips, unintentionally luring him to another heated kiss.

When they break apart—both short of breath—Lee continues, "I've heard the filthiest rumors about your tongue. Makes me wonder if you can live up to the hype."

"Just show me where you want my tongue on," Richard says, accepting the challenge with a lick of his lips, "and I'll make sure it'll be worth your while."

Staring at him, Lee's eyes darken even further. However, much to Richard's dismay, Lee turns his gaze to the side once more.

Richard decides to follow his line of sight and discovers that it's already past midnight. When he turns his gaze back up, Lee's full attention is back on him. He graces Richard with a fond, brilliant smile before capturing his lips for a rather chaste kiss.

"Happy birthday."

There was a time, a year ago to be exact, when Richard made a silent, _little_ wish—something that involved Lee and love and happiness. He didn't think he'd ever get something out of that, but tonight. . . Tonight, he has been proven wrong.

Turns out birthday wishes do come true. 

 

* * *

   

Luke has waited until he got home to make the phone call. He is perfectly used to being discreet, but this conversation cannot be hidden in euphemisms and implications. When he is sprawled down his favorite couch and Smaug—his snobby, ginger cat—has appeared from wherever he has hidden himself, Luke finally makes the call. 

Evangeline picks up on the first ring. "Luke! How are you this fine evening?"

"I'm quite well, Ms. Lilly, and yourself?"

"I have this feeling that you're about to make my day a whole lot better," says Evangeline. "One sec." Luke can hear her fiddling with her mobile, and when she speaks again, her voice is a bit more distant. "Still there?"

"I'm here."

"Hello, Luke," greets Graham, sounding a little bit farther away than Evangeline.

"Evening, Mr. McTavish." 

"So, how did it go?" Evangeline cuts in, eager as a puppy. "Give us all the details."

"That won't be necessary," Graham intervenes quickly. 

"From what I've seen earlier," Luke shares with a self-satisfied grin, "my mission's a complete success." 

Evangeline whoops loudly while Graham lets a booming laugh. This is quickly followed by a smacking sound, which is probably just the pair high-fiving each other.

"What happened?"  
  
"What did you see?"

Luke clears his throat before recounting the events from earlier. "I played the voyeur angle like you suggested. Gave 'em plenty of time to talk while I was in the shower, and then left after one round."

"Okay. . ." 

"Then, I hung around the lobby for about an hour," Luke continues. "Never saw either one of them leave."

"They'd better appreciate that room," mutters Evangeline. "Would've hated to know a week's worth of commission had just gone down the drain."

Luke scratches Smaug behind the ears as he tells the best part of his act. "Anyway, I deliberately left my mobile in the room, so I had the excuse to go back inside."

Graham barks out another laugh. "Clever bastard. And? Did you catch them at it?" 

"I definitely interrupted something," Luke explains. "They had cleaned up, but they were barely dressed, and I'm sure there had been at least some snogging."

"Ha!" Evangeline exclaims.

"Anything else?" asks Graham. 

Sinking further down his couch, Luke finds himself enjoying his receptive audience. "The bed was unmade and mussed up, which hadn't been when I left the first time. There were condoms and lube on the bedside table, and I heard some giggling and growling as soon as I was gone."

"Oh, thank god," Graham sighs. "You have no idea how long I've had to put up with those two mooning over each other."

"I'd say it was about as long as I have," says Evangeline.

"You only encouraged it," counters Graham.

"Hey, I helped you resolve it, didn't I?" Evangeline retorts. "And watch your tone, mister."

"She did find me," Luke pipes up.

"And you were perfect," Evangeline adds. "Sure you don't wanna join us full time?" 

"No," Luke says. "Not this time anyway. I'm into freelance gigs nowadays. Besides, things could get interesting if I ran into those two in a professional capacity." 

"We'll own up to it eventually," Graham dismisses. 

Luke laughs at that, making Smaug look up at him from his lap. "I want to see their reactions when they do, but maybe from a safe distance."

"We'll record it for you or something," offers Evangeline. "Now there's something I should've thought of earlier. . ."

"No, no, absolutely not," Graham says vehemently. "Don't need that kind of proof."

"Now, Graham—" 

"I swear, you're made for this job, mind always in the gutter," Graham grumbles. "Poor Aidan."

"How many times do I have to tell you Aidan's not my—"

"Careful, or somebody's going to sic the matchmaker on you next," Luke cuts in.

There is a moment of horrified silence before Evangeline and Graham starts talking over each other. Luke just laughs at them, not understanding one bit the woman's argument as to why an agent and an escort cannot be together.

Being the louder one of the two, Evangeline finally gets the upper hand. "If this is how you repay me," she spits with mocking ire, "see if I hire you again, Luke Evans." 

"As much as I enjoyed a job where I'm the client of my clients, I don't think you'd ever have to hire me again."

Evangeline snorts. "Who knows? We may have to bring you back to straighten them out sometime."

"Heaven forbid," Graham sighs. "I hope once is enough."

A phone begins to ring in the background.

"In the meantime, we've got a business to run," Evangeline continues, completely ignoring Graham. "Good night, Luke. Thank you so much again." 

"My pleasure, anytime," Luke says before ending the call.

Smaug rouses when Luke shifts and stretches out his legs. He nudges the cat off his lap to stand, and the little ball of fur streaks past him into the kitchen, staring pointedly at his food dish. Luke chuckles and follows him.

"So, about my weirdo of the week," he says while rummaging inside the cabinet. "There's actually four of them—two agents and two escorts. Now, the two agents wanted the two escorts to work out all that sexual tension they've been generating, but they couldn't just hire them to sleep with each other." He squats down and pours out the cat food for Smaug. "And that's where yours truly came in. . ."

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I know he won't ever see this, but oh, what the hell, I'm greeting him anyway. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RICHARD CRISPIN ARMITAGE!
> 
> Second, RA's birthday has been the perfect excuse for me to write something other than my WIP. Not that I don't like my other stuff, but I've been dying to write this one since last February. 
> 
> Third, about the roleplaying/crossdressing parts, a friend (you won't ever believe who it is) convinced me to choose Porter/Calpernia over Thorin/Thranduil. The story would've been a lot different if I went with my initial plan, but I'm really happy with what I ended up writing. Hope you have enjoyed reading it, too.
> 
> Thank you, and as always, comments and kudos are welcome and appreciated.


End file.
